Moon Dragon (Page 25)

He said, “The key is love.”

“And cow blood.”

“Yes, Sam.”

“So, how do you love yourself when you’ve hated yourself for so long?”

Fang reached over and took both my hands. He held my gaze for a long, long time, then finally shook his head. “Only you can answer that, Sam. But I think you might be better at it than you give yourself credit for.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Fang was gone, and I was restless.

After much pacing and running my fingers through my hair, I decided it was time that I got real answers, and it was time that I started caring that real people might be getting killed in the worst way imaginable: being eaten alive.

Jesus.

With my kids now staying over with my sister—God bless her—I grabbed my car keys and hit the road.

* * *

I was parked in front of Gunther’s house.

It was the middle of night, with dawn still hours away. The street was quiet and Gunther’s two-story home looked empty. I shouldn’t have left his house this evening. I should have stayed here, watching it, then followed him. But I had let my hunger get the best of me, and now, he was gone. I was sure of it. After all, tomorrow was the full moon, and there was a very good chance Gunther was, even now, looking for his next victim.

Up in the San Bernardino Mountains, perhaps along a hiking trail.

Or, more likely, he was setting up on a carefully chosen trail. Come morning, he would wait for the perfect victim. He was fairly indiscriminate. Men and women alike…although he leaned toward women.

No, this wasn’t a paying gig. I had no dog in this fight. And up until now, the idea of something hunting humans in the woods didn’t seem entirely horrible.

It had seemed right. Natural.

The strong shall live, and all of that.

But now that my hunger had been satiated, and now that I had begun the process of removing the hate and anger from my thoughts…something interesting was happening.

Something Fang had predicted, that smart little bugger.

I started caring. I started feeling like my old self. I started realizing that killing the innocent wasn’t right, no matter what, and if I could do something about it, then dammit, I would.

A simple shift in focus had been all that was needed.

A shift from hate to love.

“Self-love,” I whispered and laughed lightly.

I needed to do something, and that something was to find his damn cabin in the woods. A cabin that was, I suspected, off the grid or owned by someone else. Or even owned by one of his victims.

So, I closed my eyes and projected my mind out.

A neat trick and one that every investigator should be so lucky to have the ability to do. Anyway, as my consciousness expanded, I focused on the house before me, and soon, I was pushing through the front door. My projected mind now stood in his foyer. From there, I scanned the house. Empty. Lights out, except for a single lamp near the camelback couch. The view before me flickered and wavered, like a TV going on the fritz. I was stretching my mental scanning abilities to the limit. I pushed on down the hallway, scanning into each room. The downstairs was empty. Back in the living room, I noticed a camera sitting on his mantel, pointed at the front door. It was the only such camera I saw. I also saw a home security system that seemed pretty elaborate. Motion detectors in all the living room corners.

I headed upstairs and confirmed the same, then took a quick peek in the garage. The Challenger was still here.

Someone picked him up, I realized, and returned to my body.

I stepped out of my minivan…and slipped into the shadows around Gunther’s home, searching for a way in. I ignored the downstairs windows; most would be wired. I continued around the house, reaching over and opening a side gate. No dog, but I knew that. I scanned the upper stories.

There, high up, was a circular vent that would lead, I assumed, into the attic. I would take my chances.

I leaped up onto the stone fence separating his property from his neighbor’s. Now the neighbor might have a dog…but it turned out they didn’t. Either way, I wasn’t on the fence for long. From there, I gathered myself and sprang as high as I could. Turns out I can spring with the best of them. A moment later, I landed smoothly on the roof.

I dashed along the crest of the roof and leaped onto the second-story tiles. A moment later, using brute force, I had the attic vent off.

Once inside, I began removing my clothing.

All in a night’s work.

Chapter Twenty-eight

I was naked. In someone else’s house.

Lucky for me, without clothing, the camera and motion sensors wouldn’t pick me up. Still, I was naked. In someone else’s house.

Feeling more than self-conscious, I headed down his stairs, careful not to touch anything. I might be undead and a supernatural badass, but I still left fingerprints.

The house was large, but not exceptionally so. I didn’t see a basement entrance outside, nor did I expect there to be. Few homes in Southern California had basements. Anyway, the first floor consisted of a large living room with a black lacquer Steinway piano in one corner. The fireplace with its mantel and camera. The mantel had a few candles on it, which I thought was overkill. The living room was immaculate. Freshly vacuumed. Furniture polished. Magazines spread neatly over the coffee table. I looked but didn’t see a copy of The Werewolf Times or Furry Illustrated.

I did see, however, an abundance of moon paraphernalia. What was the deal with that anyway? Okay, I get that their lives revolve around the damn thing, but did they also need to collect moon crap, too?

Apparently so.

Kingsley’s office was adorned with the stuff, and so was Gunther’s home. A full moon painting above the black leather camelback couch. A crescent moon painting over the piano. A supermoon photograph over the fireplace. Moon statues inside an inset glass display case. The statues ranged from the very elegant to the surreal to the absurd. A Dali-like moon, made of clay, in mid-dissolve, was seemingly spilling onto the glass shelf. Actually, I kinda liked that one.

I moved on.

The kitchen was behind the living room, around a central set of stairs that led to the upstairs bedrooms. The kitchen was modern and industrial and looked like it had never been used. There was, yes, a moon potholder hanging from a hook near the refrigerator. Moon magnets on the fridge. I was beginning to hate the moon. Which was sad, considering my cool last name.

So far, I hadn’t set off any alarms.

I headed upstairs and into the master bedroom. Freshly cleaned and freshly vacuumed. Yes, Gunther had been busy tonight. Maybe he preferred coming home to a clean house after his monthly killings. Call it a quirk.